


Ice Breaker

by Crollalanza



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Beginnings, Gen, Nekoma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-18
Updated: 2020-09-18
Packaged: 2021-03-08 01:00:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,324
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26527105
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Crollalanza/pseuds/Crollalanza
Summary: There's a hole at the heart of Nekoma when the third years have left. A hole that needs to be welded if they're to connect as a team. Kenma's not sure what to do, but Yamamoto swears he has the perfect plan to break the ice.
Relationships: Kozume Kenma & Yamamoto Taketora
Comments: 4
Kudos: 40





	Ice Breaker

**Author's Note:**

> I set a poll on twitter for spiker/setter week and this topped it as the next one I should write. Unfortunately, I'd sort of set it as a placeholder, so it took me some time to think up the idea. Heee!
> 
> Anyway, it was fun to write and I hope you enjoy it.

It was only when he opened up the gym, that it hit Kenma he was alone. Stepping over the threshold, the silence shrouded him like a cloak, but if he held his breath he might just hear the squeak of trainers on the floor, the thunk of a ball in a perfect receive, or perhaps the wind whistling past his ear as a serve whipped through the air. He shook his head. There was no one else here.

The gym had been swept the night before but that was all. A faint smell of sweat mingled with cheap body spray lingered. Kenma left the door open, waiting for the others and wandered across to the changing room. 

It was as it had been left. One corner of the poster Yamamoto had put up the previous night was peeling from the wall. He guessed he could remedy that, but instead, Kenma reached into his bag, found the rota he’d printed off and attached it to the notice board. Names added, names removed, times adjusted and a list of practise games to be played. His eyes flicked to Golden Week and he allowed a smile to play on his lips seeing they’d be the hosts this time welcoming their crow guests.

 _What would they be like as a team without their third years?_ he wondered. _Was it an advantage having had three first years in the team? Or would they miss Sawamura’s presence too much?_

Footsteps thudded across the court. He didn’t look up, but called out a faint ‘Hi’ knowing exactly who it was, not because he expected him, but because the sound Yamamoto made as he thumped across the court was as distinctive as Shibayama’s soft footsteps, or Kuro’s decisive ones.

“Am I late?” Yamamoto called.

“No, I was early.” He picked at the knot in his shoelace. “I know. I know. I won’t make a habit of it.”

“S’cool.” Yamamoto mooched into the room, bag over one shoulder and clutching something behind his back.

Kenma narrowed his eyes. “Why do you have a fire bucket?”

“Uh… in case there’s a fire?” he offered, and chewed his lip. “Kind of an ice breaker… maybe. Uhm… why _are_ you so early?”

“Too used to be dragged in,” Kenma replied, and glanced around the room. “Before you got here, I was thinking that this is the first time I’ve been alone in the gym.”

“Huh?”

“If I was ever early, it was because I was with Kuro,” Kenma explained. “What do you mean by icebreaker?”

“Tell you in a minute.” Dropping his kitbag on the floor, Yamamoto sauntered faux-casually across to the bathroom, even affecting a whistle and soon Kenma heard the sound of the tap and water sloshing into the bucket.

He re-emerged, placing the bucket carefully in the corner and squinted down at it. “That should do it,” he murmured, then faced Kenma.”You’ve never been here without Kuroo-san?”

“Yes, I have. Even Kuro was ill occasionally, or late, but I can’t remember ever sitting in here and being completely by myself. It was …odd.”

“Why?”

“It was quiet.”

“And now I’m here talkin’ rubbish about buckets.” Clearing his throat, he flopped down on the bench opposite Kenma. “Uh… we’re okay, right?”

“Hmm?”

“Me being Captain, I mean. You’re cool with that, right? Cuz, I kinda thought they’d go f’ you because you’re the brain and I’m not a tactication… um… do I mean that?”

“Tactician,” Kenma corrected, but softly.

“See, you’re brighter than me.”

“Captaincy isn’t about the ability to use long words,” Kenma replied, and twisted a small smile on his lips. “Or they’d have gone with Shouhei.”

“True, enough.” Yamamoto looked away, pressing his lips together.

Kenma leant across, breaching the divide between them. “Tora, the last thing I want to do is press people to attend training and fire them up before a match. And I’d be crap at bringing them together. That’s _very_ much your department.”

“Ah, thanks.”

“Mind you,” Kenma continued, “captaincy isn’t about making up dumb mantras. You better not have something as lame as Kuro’s ‘the blood in our veins’ in mind.”

“Not _as_ lame,” Yamamoto replied, and grinned. “Hey, why change perfection?”

“You are NOT to use it. I invoke my Vice Captain veto.”

“Ain’t no such thing,” he laughed. “We could put it to a vote though.”

“Democracy is overrated.”

“Ha! You know I’d win. The people love it!”

As Yamamoto changed, silence fell again. Kenma sat and pondered on the quiet, wondering if the echoes from the past would animate themselves into ghosts and stroll nonchalantly into the gym to declare it was their space.

_No, they’re not coming back. Kuro’s gone._

“The bucket?” he asked again.

“Oh… right.” Yamamoto quickly pulled his shirt over his head. “It’s like this,” he began.

And then more footsteps could be heard, not just one set but a full flood as the second and third years clattered in, obeying their Captain’s order to be early so they could greet the new first years.

“Ah, shit. Just follow my lead,” Yamamoto hissed.

“Follow what?”

“Get mad at me,” he whispered.”C’mon, Kenma. Pretend you’re angry.”

“Tora, I don’t have the energy for th—”

“THAT’S YOUR PROBLEM!” Yamamoto yelled, with a sudden vehemence as if he were facing Nohebi across the net. “NO ENERGY? NO GUTS MORE LIKE!”

“Wha—” Kenma began to protest, but just as Lev approached the changing room, Yamamoto grabbed him by his shirt front and lifted him off the bench.

“LET GO!” he yelled back.

“NOT UNTIL YOU APOLOGISE!”

“WHAT FOR?”

“UH… NO GUTS NO GLORY. INSULTING OUR CHANT.” He lowered his voice. “Shout at me. Look mad.”

_What?_

But Tora was staring at him, half fierce half desperate.

“Uh… I’M NOT BEING TOLD WHAT TO DO BY A GUY WHO CAN’T EVEN SPELL _VEINS_!”

“Guys, guys!” Lev loped towards them, desperate to play peacemaker and prove he was a responsible second year.

But then Fukunaga sighed, rolled his eyes and sneaking around the ‘warring’ captain and vice, he bent down to pick up the bucket.

Yamamoto’s bucket.

 _Ohhhhhhh._ Kenma gripped Yamamoto harder, intensifying his scowl.

“This will hurt me more than it hurts you,” Fukunaga declared as he lifted it off the floor. “One last chance to quit fighting like alley cats, or … you …” he started to swing “… get … soak—AGHHH!” He yowled, much like a cat himself, utterly outraged, and looking around Kenma understood why Yamamoto had been so gleefully furtive.

Fukunaga was drenched. From the waist down, he dripped sodden on the changing room floor. He might have been soaked from the head, except all Kenma could see of his face was his eye as he peered through a hole in the bottom of the rusty bucket.

“Hey!”

“Oh … yeah, I prob’ly shoulda told you that,” Yamamoto replied, and set Kenma back on the floor.

The others began to laugh, Shibayama’s shoulders shaking as snorted into his hand, Lev giggled like a ticklish toddler, Inuoka let out a guffaw, which startled Teshiro into a shriek followed by a smothered chuckle.

Showing the senpais in a less than flattering light, might have been unconventional, but, Kenma thought, perhaps a hole in the bucket was what they needed to weld together the hole left by their predecessors. And if he strained his ears, he could swear that Kuro’s low belly laugh was echoing around the gym.

“That’s quite an icebreaker,” he murmured to Yamamoto. “Well done.”

“The sponge at the bottom plugs it for a while if it’s set right, and no one picks it up and starts to swing it around.” Yamamoto explained, grinning. “What’s it like to be on the receiving end for a change, Shouhei-kun?”

“Um …” Putting down the bucket, Fukunaga considered, tilting his head to the side. “It’s definitely wet, Archimedes.” He gave a slow blink and then a small smile curved like a ‘u’ on his lips. “Eureka!”

**Author's Note:**

> Pfft, who needs Marti Pellow.


End file.
